


bleacher safety

by hupsoonheng



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Humanstuck, John is a jerk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hupsoonheng/pseuds/hupsoonheng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by a post fuck-slayer made on tumblr about karkat crying under the bleachers because john thought asking him out would be a good prank. i thought he should get cheered up</p>
            </blockquote>





	bleacher safety

**Author's Note:**

> posted originally on tumblr, x-posted here because i like attention

The bleachers are full of empty bottles, old candy wrappers, and there’s been this one shoe nobody’s wanted to claim for months, wedged where only the most intrepid janitor would ever find it. Underneath them is even worse, though, a dark hole you can barely sit up in full of dust and litter and sometimes items you’d rather forget were there. But under the bleachers is a hiding spot of yours that hasn’t been discovered yet, and the thought of being seen by any other human right now is enough to make your throat burn with bile. 

John Egbert is so fucking beautiful. Long brown limbs, thick black hair, bright blue eyes—kind of a goofy laugh to go with a goofy smile, but nobody ever holds that against him. He’s always been more or less your friend, over the years, though in that weird way where he never seems to understand just what a loser you are, how much all his friends all ridicule you. Fucking oblivious. One time he even invited you over to McDonald’s with the jackasses that often walk behind you making pig noises, and seemed totally mystified when you asked what his problem was. 

Today he approached you again, right in the hallway surrounded by unkind eyes. He took hold of your hand with its bitten nails that still managed to look dirty, and looked into your eyes, and said, “Karkat, I have something to tell you.” Your heart leapt into your throat like it was ready to make its escape. You’d never really let your crush-like thoughts about John fully develop because you’re too disgusting to be alive and you know it, but in that moment they bloomed so violently in your chest it felt like an explosion. For that brief moment, you didn’t care how publicly he was doing this. 

“I’m homosexual for you,” John drawled, loud and obnoxious and drawing even more stares further down the hall. “I wanna have your baby, Karkat.” You could feel the snickering against your skin, could hear the way they elbowed each other in the ribs. Your face went hot even as John broke into laughter. “Shit, dude, I’m sorry, I can’t keep a straight face for that one.” His innocent giggles were joined by much crueler guffaws, and after you wrenched yourself away you tucked yourself under the bleachers, and now here you fucking are. Fucking disaster. 

You press the cuff of your pilling grey sweatshirt against your eyes again, because you are totally not crying in the dark and the dust bunnies. You are _not_. You’re a fat angry piece of shit with a peach fuzz mustache and a jiggly chest and an overbite all the better for taking big bites of pan dulce, but you swear to god you’re not a crybaby. It’s not a cliché if you definitely have something in your eye, even if it’s invisible, even if you don’t know what it might be. 

“Are you fucking crying down here?” Sollux’s voice asks from the side of the bleachers. You wipe all the more furiously at your eyes, glaring as he starts folding up his long, awkward body up to try and fit under the bleachers with you. 

“No! No. Fuck you, Captor,” you say as he edges toward you with a wrinkled nose. “I have allergies.” 

“No you don’t,” he points out, and you hate that he remembers these things about you. “You’re just crying.” 

“Yeah? Well, you’re just an asshole,” you snort in return. “You’re gonna have a fuck of a time getting back out, you know.” 

“You’ll help. I know you will.” He sits a little closer than is comfortable, his bony knee laid across your round one. “You’re gonna get found down here eventually, you know.” 

“Yeah, and it’ll be your fault because you keep ducking under here in the most obvious way possible whenever I ‘go missing’, you mindless fuck.” You’re so aware of his body that you want to barf at yourself. He’s been tall since forever, especially since the godless first years of puberty, with wide sloping shoulders and a long face that seems well-matched with his lisp. He’s just as much a loser as you are, but in a different category where people can find him attractive when they can see past his nerdy personality and almost perpetual bad mood. Kind of the male version of the nerdy girl revealed to be stunning when she takes off her glasses and lets her hair down, only he still sounds like he has a mouthful of spit when he talks no matter what. The one blue eye tricks people into believing he’s cool, sometimes. 

“What’re you doing down here, anyway, nerd?” he asks, bracing his feet against the bottom of one bleacher step before he decides it’s too uncomfortable. “Gym isn’t for another while.” 

“Just dumb stuff.” You twiddle your thumbs, trying to pretend the part of you touching Sollux doesn’t exist. “What, are you gonna fucking grill me about it?” 

“No, because you can’t keep your emotions and problems to yourself, so you’re gonna tell me anyway.” His hand on his own knee is way too close to your thigh. Why doesn’t he pay attention to the space he takes up? You certainly do, every minute of every day. “Who fucked up your day, Vantas?” 

He’s right, of course. You always spill. “John,” you say with a sigh. “He tried to prank me. By, you know, fucking pretending like anybody could like me.” If only there were a rock you could kick. “In front of those assholes. You know which ones.” 

“I like you,” Sollux says, matter-of-fact. 

“Yeah, you’re my friend,” you say. “I mean like, the other way of liking somebody. Don’t be a jackass about it.” 

“I’m not,” he says with a shrug that’s a little stiffer than you’re used to coming from him. “You want me to, uh, I don’t know, sit with you down here? For a while? I’d only be missing English.” 

“English is the most fun subject,” you mutter. Sollux’s hand hangs off his knee like it’s a car going off a cliff, brushing against the inseam of your jeans. 

“For a verbose asshole like you, maybe,” he replies. “So do you want me to stick around?” 

You pretend like you need to think about it as you wonder what might happen if your hand bumped against his. “Yeah,” you mumble. “Yeah, alright, if you don’t mind breathing in like fifty years’ worth of dust.” 

For a solid half hour you sit in silence, especially when you hear some teacher or another squeaking around the gym floor. Sollux’s breathing sounds deeper and longer than yours, you notice, and you’re both acutely ignoring the fact that his hand “fell” palm-up on your leg. Or he’s actually not noticing, and it’s just you being a nasty so-called romantic making a big deal out of everything again. Even with that, though, his presence is more soothing than you’d expected, so much so that you feel like you’re being woken out of a trance when he speaks up again. At first he just mumbles it, and you nudge him to speak up a little. 

“I do like you, though, I wasn’t kidding about that,” he says, and you think he glances at where his hand still sits. 

“We’ve been over this. You’re my friend,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Of course you like me, I’m ugly but charismatic.” 

“No, like, I _like_ you, you dense piece of shit,” Sollux says with a tinge of exasperation. 

“You what?” You blink rapidly as if he can really see that in this darkness. “Sorry, run that by me again? I’m not looking to get punked twice in one day, Captor.” 

“I just thought it was relevant to bring up, with you feeling down and talking about feelings in general anyway!” he says with that teenage squawk riding some of his words. He gestures widely with one arm, and ends up whacking his wrist on some metal joint down here. “Shit!” 

“Don’t fuck with me while we’re trapped down here. I could probably definitely beat you senseless in this environment,” you sneer. 

But instead of trying any more excuses, he reaches back over to take your hand. It’s the same one John grabbed earlier, and you want to snatch it back already. “Karkat,” he breathes as he leans closer, “come the fuck on. Like you said, don’t be a jackass.” 

“I’m,” you say as you swallow around a lump in your throat, “I’m not being a jackass. Just careful. Paranoid, is what plenty of people call me, and that’s still more applicable than jackass.” 

Just as you think you might be like five minutes away from Sollux actually leaning in and kissing you, though, a teacherly voice cuts in to tell you how much trouble you’re in, how you’ll never be able to hide down here again, what the hell is even going on here, followed by generalized groaning about hormones and teenagers. You’re both frog-marched to the dean’s office, but you can still feel where Sollux’s hand wrapped around yours, big and bony against your soft palm. When you glance at him you can see him slowly rubbing his thumb against the side of his index finger, like he feels the ghost of your hand, too. 

You meet up after detention. And he holds your hand again as you head toward the park.


End file.
